


Neighborly Plight

by Drapetomania



Series: Mila's Sterek Bingo [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drapetomania/pseuds/Drapetomania
Summary: Ghosts.Sterek Bingo 2020 theme: Neighbors
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Mila's Sterek Bingo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1752541
Kudos: 24





	Neighborly Plight

**Author's Note:**

> I had a thought

Being a ghost was supposed to be fun but after a few hundred centuries there's really not much exhilaration left in scaring humans. By the time you play through every trick in the book for about the third time - depending on possible variations - humanity gets way too predictable and boring. Especially when you spent too much of your life studying human behaviors already. What a waste that had been.

...as much as this right now feels. Some years, Stiles spends unconscious. Well, he can't really be conscious nor unconscious. He doesn't sleep or eat or have any bodily functions. Emotions don't quite work the way they do when you're alive. He has to face it. He's dead. He's a ghost and it's really not as fascinating as living people imagined. 

Yes, he is pitying himself. That's all he has left to do 364 days of the year. By the way, numbers? Time? They are all bullshit concepts. They don't mean anything at all anymore. Nothing matters.

He's gone so crazy he's reverted back to sane. If he still feels like it, he can scream his metaphorical soul out, but his point is, he just kind of… exists in non-existence… drifts through space.

It's not just a bummer, it's a goddamn tragedy. But okay, no, he's not going to get into the whole event of his death and so on, it's old news. Very, very old news that no one cares about anymore. Even if someone were to try to find out about this spirit that he was, they'd have no clues to go on. He's bound to a certain square footage that has fuck whatever to do with current housing situations. Everything he knew back in his living days is long gone and forgotten, not even his grave exists anymore. 

But he still cannot leave a certain range from his position at time of death. It sucks. He could be exploring the world, fusing through different materials like mountains and rocks - he could be checking to see what the earth core truly looked like. Maybe he could even be going up to the stars. But no.

He's stuck. With limited entertainment possibilities. Especially because he can't always interact with anything he wants. Some days he's stronger than others, some days he just passes through everything, stays invisible to literally everything alive, and can't make a single sound. It's like he doesn't exist.

No wonder most ghost stories contain very angry and bitter ghosts.

Stiles only has one thing keeping him from making the kitchen walls bleed grotesquely every evening when the current owners of the silly little house play that terrible techno music. 

Halloween.

It's an experience he has yet to figure out the magic of. Honestly he doesn't know what the reason for ghosts is either or if there is anything beyond death or if he will ever move on. Because no matter how keen he is on unraveling the secrets of the universe - always too curious for his own good - there is one thing that always wins out against it.

Stiles waits eagerly at the edge of his territory to feel himself gain substance. He's weakest here at the border, has less influence than in the middle, but any moment now he knows the surge will start. He'll be free and powerful to do whatever he wants. It's nothing compared to being alive but it's glorious.

Unfortunately, he can't even make an effort to get a better appearance, he's stuck in the raggedy, damaged clothing he died in. Stuck. Always stuck.

But soon, he feels the pressure ease, feels the weight lift and he can rush forward. Out in a direction that stays familiar throughout the years. He still sees the original grand house from years ago. The one he had to watch go up in flames two nights after his death, helpless, crying, screaming without sound. 

Derek shimmers in the distance, approaching Stiles as well, smiling as best as he can. Stiles no longer really takes in his appearance, all he does is feel his presence and that's all he needs. 

"Hey, neighbor," he hums as they step opposite of each other. Derek holds out his elbow for him to take and Stiles does with a grin, tries to let go of the torture of the rest of the year, existing without life, existing so close to Derek and yet completely out of reach.

"Is that all I am to you?" Derek questions with a huff.

It's all they were while alive but Stiles refrains from pointing that out… again. He wonders if Derek really needs a verbal confirmation from him, when he literally chooses what he can have of forever to spend with him.

"We will never really be more. We don't exist," Stiles says. It's the only plausible definition, considering everything loses meaning once you're no longer a part of life.

"Then what do you call this?" Derek mimics grandeur, motioning out with an arm at the late setting sun. There's a light breeze brushing through them that Stiles can somehow feel and a fresh, wicked scent in the air. All around them the shadows of life are rising to experience life once more for just one night.


End file.
